The poor man will praise it so hath he good cause, That all the year eats neither partridge nor quail,But sets up his rest and makes up his feast, With a crust of brown bread and a pot of good ale.Old English Song. From An Antidote Against Melancholy. (1661).

When the Sultan Shah-ZamanGoes to the city Ispahan,Even before he gets so farAs the place where the clustered palm-trees are,At the last of the thirty palace-gates,The pet of the harem, Rose-in-Bloom,Orders a feast in his favorite roomGlittering square of colored ice,Sweetened with syrup, tinctured with spice,Creams, and cordials, and sugared dates,Syrian apples, Othmanee quinces,Limes and citrons and apricots,And wines that are known to Eastern princes. T. B. AldrichWhen the Sultan Goes to Ispahan.

Some men are born to feast, and not to fight;Whose sluggish minds, een in fair honors field,Still on their dinner turnLet such pot-boiling varlets stay at home,And wield a flesh-hook rather than a sword. Joanna BaillieBasil. Act I. Sc. 1.

Man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day;He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey;Although his anatomical construction Bears vegetables, in a grumbling way,Your laboring people think beyond all question,Beef, veal, and mutton better for digestion. ByronDon Juan. Canto II. St. 67.

A loaf of bread, the Walrus said, Is what we chiefly need:Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeedNow if youre ready, Oysters, dear, We can begin to feed! Lewis CarrollThe Walrus and the Carpenter. From Alice Through The Looking-Glass.

What will not luxury taste? Earth, sea, and air,Are daily ransackd for the bill of fare.Blood stuffed in skins is British Christians food,And France robs marshes of the croaking brood. GayTrivia. Bk. III. L. 199.

Here, dearest Eve, he exclaims, here is food. Well, answered she, with the germ of a housewife stirring within her, we have been so busy to-day that a picked-up dinner must serve. HawthorneMosses from an Old Manse. The New Adam and Eve.

Good well-dressd turtle beats them hollow,It almost makes me wish, I vow,To have two stomachs, like a cow!And lo! as with the cud, an inward thrillUpheaved his waistcoat and disturbd his frill,His mouth was oozing, and he workd his jawI almost think that I could eat one raw. HoodThe Turtles.

Yet shall you have to rectify your palate,An olive, capers, or some better saladUshering the mutton; with a short-legged hen,If we can get her, full of eggs, and then,Limons, and wine for sauce: to these a coneyIs not to be despaired of for our money;And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,The sky not falling, think we may have larks. Ben JonsonEpigram CI.

A woman asked a coachman, Are you full inside? Upon which Lamb put his head through the window and said: I am quite full inside; that last piece of pudding at Mr. Gillmans did the business for me. LambAutobiographical Recollections, by Chas. R. Leslie.

If you wish to grow thinner, diminish your dinner, And take to light claret instead of pale ale;Look down with an utter contempt upon butter, And never touch bread till its toastedor stale. Henry S. LeighA Day for Wishing.

Mithriades, by frequently drinking poison, rendered it impossible for any poison to hurt him. You, Cinna, by always dining on next to nothing, have taken due precaution against ever perishing from hunger. MartialEpigrams. Bk. V. Ep. 76.

Annius has some two hundred tables, and servants for every table. Dishes run hither and thither, and plates fly about. Such entertainments as these keep to yourselves, ye pompous; I am ill pleased with a supper that walks. MartialEpigrams. Bk. VII. Ep. 48.

We may live without poetry, music and art;We may live without conscience, and live without heart;We may live without friends; we may live without books;But civilized man cannot live without cooks.He may live without books,what is knowledge but grieving?He may live without hope,what is hope but deceiving?He may live without love,what is passion but pining?But where is the man that can live without dining? Owen Meredith (Lord Lytton)Lucile. Pt. I. Canto II. St. 24.

Their best and most wholesome feeding is upon one dish and no more and the same plaine and simple: for surely this hudling of many meats one upon another of divers tastes is pestiferous. But sundrie sauces are more dangerous than that. PlinyNatural History. Bk. XI. Ch. LIII. Hollands trans.

Each man to his stool, with that spur as he would to the lip of his mistress; your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place.Timon of Athens. Act III. Sc. 6. L. 73.

Though we eat little flesh and drink no wine,Yet lets be merry; well have tea and toast;Custards for supper, and an endless hostOf syllabubs and jellies and mince-pies,And other such ladylike luxuries. ShelleyLetter to Maria Gisborne.

Oh, herbaceous treat!Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat;Back to the world hed turn his fleeting soul,And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl;Serenely full the epicure would say?Fate cannot harm me,I have dined to-day. Sydney SmithA Receipt for a Salad.